Please Do Not Call Me a Millennial

My name is Victoria, and I swear, I'm not an asshole. I'm not entitled, selfish, or lazy, either.

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But, since I have been dubbed a #millennial, these are just some of the fun labels that have flown my way, and I'm sure other people my age can relate to my frustration.

I am of a generation that awkwardly straddles new media and old media. In grade school, I simultaneously learned how to write in cursive and code (very) basic HTML. My peers and I did not learn how to swipe a smartphone upon leaving the womb (a skill which I have seen toddlers do more adeptly than I), but we also spent our adolescence negotiating the crucial transition into Web 2.0.

We are millennials. Generation Y. Generation "I" (ha). We have our own Wikipedia page. We even have our own website. Our birthdays fall within the vague range of 1980 through the mid '90s. And we are both a source of fascination and malign to those generations older than us. The New York Times (which has featured a number of articles scrutinizing every millennial move) will happily sum up these sentiments in one fell swoop: "You know them when you see them. They are tapping on their smartphones, strolling into work late and amassing Instagram followers faster than a twerking cat. They complain. They "disrupt" stuff. They simultaneously (and somewhat improbably) like both Kanye West and Kenny Chesney."

Now, I can't speak for everyone, but I for one made it to work on time this morning. The number of people following me on Instagram is laughable, at best (or so I think, since I don't think I've ever even seen that number). Okay, I complain, but I think this is just my inherent cynicism and it's usually about things like the weather. And I simultaneously could not give two shits about Kanye West or Kenny Chesney—respectfully, of course. They just aren't my style.

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Of course, the stereotypes aren't all bad. The Times contends that we're also optimistic, tolerant, self-confident, and have a certain joie de vivre. (They also say that these qualities quickly translate to entitlement, which apparently worries a lot of business supervisors, but I'm not going to touch that zinger.) But while I love knowing that so many people my age are making waves and doing what they want—the world is our oyster!—I personally think it's just a sign of the times, not a sign of the people. For reasons I'm not even completely sure of, it's never been easier to avoid career burnout, drop everything, do what you love, and/or go against the "norm"…no matter your age. Sure, Leandra Medine is of my generation and has built an amazing brand for herself. Her mother, however, is not, and just decided to start her own jewelry business.

I don't think it would bother me so much if I didn't hear such ugly word-association with "millennial" as "entitled," "narcissistic," or "lazy." In the Times article, Jared Neumark (who is 31, by the way, and is therefore technically a millennial) remarks that there's this god-awful emphasis among us young'uns about "enjoying" our work, leaving more boring career-paths in crisis (he cites lawyers as an example, but I'm pretty sure people who go into law don't all find it boring). You know, because, god forbid we actually like what we do. On the contrary, I've found that choosing a career that I absolutely love is the key to hard work, because I'm that much more motivated each day. And you know what? I worked really damn hard to get that job, and even though I lived and breathed it, I was all too aware that it still might not be enough to seal the deal. Long story short: I definitely didn't expect this to fall into my lap. And I know too many people who have worked just as hard, but haven't been so lucky.

But it's a real problem, and a very real stigma. This "Millennials in the Workplace Training Video" was created in jest, but it underlines a prejudice that isn't so funny. I've certainly met my share of jerks my age, and maybe (probably) there are people who feel the same way about me. But I've also met entitled jerks who are much older than me, and in many of these situations I consider them to be so pompous because they make assumptions about me because I am, by default, part of this stupid stereotype.

You know Hannah's infamously revised line in the pilot episode of Girls ("I'm…at least a voice. Of a generation.")? As much as quoting Lena Dunham is not helping my case stereotype-wise, it's accurate. There are a lot of us. We have a lot to say. And we have a lot of different perspectives. The general connecting thread is that we have similar means to say it—social media and related technology—but when did a vehicle of expression come to define a generation? If that's what defines us, then my dad is just as much as a millennial as I am—more, even, since I can't get through a dinner with him without begging him to get off his damn phone.

My aforementioned father is a "Baby Boomer." Now, as one of 10 kids with a WWII-vet father, there might be some justification to the term in his case. But my mom? She's an only child. Sorry, but we really can't blame her or her parents for any imminent issues with Social Security.

Putting a label on a generation is problematic in general, because it suggests that individuals are worth no more than their age and their environment. I'm not going to apologize for being born at a certain time, or that my young adulthood coincided with the boon of social media, and neither should any of my peers. If we really want to go that route, we can label Mark Zuckerberg, Evan Spiegel, Noah Glass, and David Karp—who gave us Facebook, Snapchat, Twitter, and Tumblr, respectively—as the real millennials and call it a day.